


Where Wolf?

by SnowWhiteKnight



Series: Blood of the Wolf [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Middle Ages Setting, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, F/M, Human!Sansa, Obsession, Ramsay is his own warning, The Cleganes are High Lords, The Starks are Smallfolk, Werewolf!Sandor, Werewolves, pre-marital sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-06-10 09:47:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6951424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowWhiteKnight/pseuds/SnowWhiteKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, there was a young girl who stole the heart of the big, bad wolf...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Pond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because apparently, when I did my Much Ado About Monsters fic, some people wanted to see Sandor as a werewolf, and I can dig that. Lol. This is the result.
> 
> **********
> 
> This story is set in a middle ages/medieval setting, but more Germanic than English. Think the Brothers Grimm. The classes are Royalty (king, queen, etc.), High Lords, Lords (lower nobility), Middle Class (tradesmen, merchants), Lower Class (poor smallfolks).
> 
> The Starks are on the higher end of the Lower Class, almost at the Middle Class, but not quite.

He watched her washing in the pond at the bottom of the hill. Stupid little preening bird, unaware that a predator lurked above her, ready to consume her should she give any indication she’d accept it. Her scent wafted up to him. She smelled of strawberries on a bright summer day. He stroked his hard member, imagining taking her right there in the pond, bending her over the fallen log she liked to sit upon at times and making her scream his name until she came undone for him.  _ The day she takes a husband will be an awful day for me indeed. _ For now, he satisfied his obsession with her by watching her, watching over her, and pretending she knew he was there. He had attempted to speak to her a few times, and had managed to even give her a gift, but he had only barely managed it. He spent more time watching her without her knowing. Well, she had seen him in his wolf form a few times, but she didn’t know it was him.  _ Pitiful fool, that’s me. _

Another scent hit his nose. Male. Friend or foe? He didn’t take any chances. He let go of himself and picked up a rock. Just because she would eventually take a husband didn’t mean he had to help it along. Aiming carefully, he threw it in the direction the scent was coming from, startling the little bird. She quickly got out of the pond and dressed. Sandor grumbled at the loss of her nakedness. He watched as she tied the laces of her dress just as a man entered the clearing. 

“Sansa, where have you been? Mother’s been worried sick,” the man said. He had the same reddish hair as the little bird.

“I’ve been here, like I told her I would be. She worries too much, Robb.” The little bird had pulled her hair over her shoulder and was fiddling with the ends of it. She was lying. She hadn’t told her mother. He finally recognized him. He was her eldest brother. It had been a while since he last saw him and the boy had become a man. Sandor sniffed the air, examining and learning the man’s scent. He smelled of leafy greens on a snow chilled day. “I’m safe here.”

Sandor, her predator, wanted to laugh at that.

“Nowhere is safe, little sister, not as long as the wolf is here. Not as long as the dark lord rules over this area. This is his property, you know. You are trespassing,” the Robb man argued. “And this place is cursed.”

“You’re wrong. I’m protected here,” she insisted. The Robb man frowned and took her arm harshly. Sandor had to restrain himself from making his presence known and ripping the man in half.

“It’s time to go home, regardless of any of that. You have chores to finish,” he said and pulled the little bird down the lane leading towards the village. She looked longingly at the pond until she was out of sight.

Sandor waited until he was sure they wouldn’t be coming back, then shifted and slunk down to the pond. The area was covered in her scent and he reveled in it, even rolled on the ground where it was the heaviest, letting it soak into his fur. His ears perked up when he heard more people passing by, but they were on the well worn path and did not deviate from it. The pond was just a minute or so from the forest path, but it might as well have been separated by a ravine. Everyone in the village, save the little bird, believed the pond and the forest to be dangerous, cursed. Those who walked the path through it did so as quickly as possible and never ventured from it. He supposed it was cursed. This was his territory, and those that trespassed were likely to end up wolf food. Well, not really. He had been human once and didn’t like the idea of eating them. Scaring them into thinking that, on the other hand... He also supposed she  _ was _ protected, since she was the only human he allowed to venture into his territory, specifically scared off everyone else just so that she would feel safe. Everything else that could possibly hurt her in the forest was too scared of him to get near her. The only better way would be to claim her as his own, but what human would want a wolf as a mate?


	2. Late At Night

Sansa fidgeted in her seat, her embroidery in her lap. She was nearly done, and she tended to get anxious when she got near the end of a big project. Her brother was getting married this very evening and she had been given the task of creating the cloak he would give to his bride. She had been working on it all week with her mother, and hadn't been to the pond since, a fact she really regretted. Traditionally, Arya would be helping, too, but she was with Father and Jon, visiting his sister, Jon’s mother, as well as making trades along the way. They weren’t due back for another month. Robb was to marry before they returned, due to _circumstances_ being what they were. (He got caught bedding a maid whose family was of good standing.)

The girl was rather plain, but she was smart, witty, and fun to talk to. Sansa suspected she had planned to be caught with Robb, but dared not ask. She didn’t want to accidentally undo Merry’s efforts if it _had_ been planned. Merry loved Robb with all her heart. She was incredibly happy about the entire thing, and Robb was...well, he was moderately fine with it. He liked Merry, and that was a good start to a marriage. Sansa could only hope to have something similar.

Merianne “Merry” Frey was a station above him, and it would only help the Stark family if the marriage happened. Sansa and Catelyn had been working non-stop to finish the cloak in time, though now it was just Sansa who was putting the finishing touches on it while her mother helped prepare for the wedding. Tonight, Robb and Merry would marry! Tonight, there would be a party in the village square to celebrate the new couple. Tonight, she would slip away to relax in the pond, while everyone else was distracted by the party.

She didn’t know what it was about that place, but whenever she was there, she felt at peace, like nothing could harm her. Sometimes, she felt like someone was watching her, but she never saw anyone, and even when she felt like that, she never felt danger from whoever it was. She wondered if maybe it was the wolf that was too scared to come out while she was there. She had seen the wolf once, but while she had been scared at first, she quickly realized it was really more scared of her. Her heart had gone out to it, and she wanted to soothe the creature. When she moved closer to it, it had turned and run away. _Maybe I should bring some treats with me? Coax the poor thing to come out, see that I’m not a threat._

She turned her thoughts back to the project at hand. _One more stitch and………DONE!_

She secured the thread and snipped the excess off. Holding the cloak up, she admired her work. The direwolf that represented her family was snarling and fierce, though she had tried to make it look stoic. She was pleased with it, no matter what expression the direwolf had. When it was her turn to marry, this would serve as her bridal cloak. Her family was slowly rising in the world, and her parents were investing in items like this cloak, heirlooms that could be passed down. _We’re still in the lower class, and I’m sure Mr. Frey will see this as us being upstarts, but I suppose it’s not my place to question Mother and Father._

She also supposed she had created it with her own use of it in mind, rather than knowing her brother would wear it first. She sighed. _Not like that will happen anytime soon._

There weren’t many available men in the area, and those that were available were not much to her liking. There had been one man who caught her interest, a traveler who came through the village a few years ago. She had seen him since, but only briefly, and it was not often at all. No one else had seen him or seemed to know of him. The only thing she knew about him was that despite his gruff and frightening exterior, he had been very kind to her. He had saved her from a bear that had wandered too close to the village from the nearby mountains. The bears that lived there normally didn’t get this far, but there had been a recent mudslide, disrupting its home.

She had been walking the path through the Black Forest, on her way to collect mushrooms, distracted and worried about the tall, dark man with the terrifying scars on his face following behind her on the road, and hadn’t seen the giant black bear until it took a swipe at her head. She had been lucky and stumbled backward, the bear’s claws missing her head by inches. The man pulled her out of harm’s way and, to her disbelief, had punched the bear right in the nose, roaring as he did so. She had never seen anything like it. Even her brave brothers and father wouldn’t, or maybe couldn’t, do something like that. The bear had tried to fight, but the man punched it again and again, fending off its attacks until it finally whimpered in defeat and ran off.

He helped her up then, though he avoided showing her the ruined side of his face. She felt guilty for fearing him before. She didn’t know his story, why he looked the way he did, but she knew that she should not have judged him on his looks. She hated it when people judged her for her looks, assuming she was stupid, vapid, and accepting of just any man who complimented her. She may have allowed this thinking to guide her actions, but she did not regret what she did next. She had placed her hand on his scarred cheek, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. She had had to stand on her tiptoes to bring her lips to his, to give him a gentle yet desperate kiss.

“Why?” he had asked, when they broke apart.

“I don’t know,” she had responded. She really didn’t. “I just... I wanted to.”

He gave her a dark smile then. “Get on back home, girl. Before some beast comes and eats you up, like a little bird on a silver platter.”

“Will I see you again?”

“Probably not.” He turned, but she called out to him.

“I wou...I wouldn’t mind, seeing you again. If it pleases you,” she said. He stared at her, then turned again and continued on down the road into the forest. She stood there, watching long after he disappeared. It was the wolf howl that broke her from her reverie. She had hurried back home, sans mushrooms, only realizing when she went to bed that there were no wolves known to live in the forest.

**********

The party was lively, held in the main square of the village. The square was lit up with torches and decorated with wolves and twin towers. She danced with all of her brothers, though she wished her sister, cousin, and father were able to be there, too. The party was in full swing when she slipped away. Merry had given her the cloak back already, saying she didn’t want it to get ruined during the bedding. She draped it over her shoulders as she ran down the pathway to the pond, being careful to not squash the lemoncakes she had wrapped in a cloth to take with her. The moon was nearly full and bright, making it easy to see as she approached the pond. Her light blue dress looked almost pale white in the moonlight. She slipped off her shoes, setting them down next to the fallen log. The cloak and her dress were next, followed by her undergarments. Naked as her nameday, she slipped into the cool waters.

She floated in a serene state, gazing up at the darkened sky. She could make out some of the constellations. The Howling Wolf was the brightest of them all. She remembered the day the wolf had first been seen in the forest. It was the day after she met the dark man, her protector. She wondered what had become of him, as it had been almost a year since her last encounter with him. Where did he go? Was he still traveling? Did he ever intend to come back? If he did, would he kiss her again? Would he...would he do more? Would she let him? She had been sixteen when she first met him, still more girl than woman, and ignorant of what intimacies went on between a man and a woman. She had found out much later on that she could have been in much more trouble if he had decided on taking more than a kiss. _But he didn’t. And he didn’t take the kiss. I gave it to him freely. He was surprised by it, hadn’t expected it. Surely that must mean something._ She thought back to the few encounters she had had with him, not enough words spoken between them.

On her seventeenth nameday, she met him while walking in the woods again. She wanted to kiss him again, but he had only wished her a good day and handed her a small bundle of very good quality cloth. She had found a silver wolf pin wrapped in the soft cloth. She tried to find him again, to thank him, but he was gone.

She saw him again, long after her eighteenth nameday, again in the woods. She spent most of her free time there, at first because she was hoping to see him, but then because she found that she honestly liked being there. It was calm, serene, and she felt so relaxed there. The feeling was the strongest at the pond. She had just left the pond after swimming naked in it when she felt a presence behind her. She had turned and there he was.

“G-good day, sir.”

“Not a sir,” he said, but he was giving her a slight smile. She felt a flutter in her tummy and returned his smile with one of her own. She had been about to ask what she should call him when she heard her mother calling for her and hurrying towards them. She had only turned for a moment, and when she looked back at him, he was gone.

Now she was nineteen, and her friend (now goodsister) Merry had educated her on the subject of what goes on between a man and a woman. It had all been hearsay, but Merry had a lot of aunts who liked to gossip and weren’t cautious when speaking around maidens. Sansa had learned much from Merry’s secondhand knowledge. She learned even more from her own exploration of her body, late at night, when she was alone in bed with only her thoughts of the dark man to keep her company.

She couldn’t put him out of her mind. The hour was late, much like the nights when she was in her bed and thought of him. She felt a familiar pleasant tingle between her legs, and her nipples tightened as she remembered him, of his bravery, of his strength, of the kiss they had shared. Her hands slid through the water, caressing her skin lightly, teasing her breasts until she whimpered from want, all while thinking of the dark man. Was it normal to still think of a kiss after three years? To obsess over a man she had known for all of half an hour over the course of those three years? She had had other kisses, but none could overpower the memory of her first kiss. No one could match the feeling she felt in her breast when her lips had touched his. She wanted to feel it again, see if it matched up to the memory she kept close to her heart. She kept one hand on her breast, kneading it, pinching the sensitive nipple as her other hand slid down her taut tummy and found the even more sensitive nub at the juncture of her thighs. She cried out softly as she pressed it, and imagined that it was the dark man doing these things to her. His voice would rumble in her ear, she thought, telling her...she wasn’t sure what. That he wanted her? That he would do naughty things to her, things that only married people did? She shivered at the thought. Yes, something like that. She rubbed little circles, moaning a bit louder at each pass. She felt so good, so wanton. She would never dare do something like this in the daylight, but the moonlight made her bold.

She didn’t notice the ripples in the water, nor did she notice the dark figure that created them. So lost in her own pleasure, she didn’t see anything until he was upon her.

He grabbed her by the wrists and spun her around to face away from him. She felt his manhood pressed against her, hard and hot. She cried out in fear, though she knew no one from the village would hear her. Even if they weren’t so far away, the celebration was still in full swing and would cover any screams she might emit. Warm hands slid over her body. She grabbed at the man’s arms, startled by the amount of hair on them, almost like fur!

“The little bird tempts a man too much tonight,” a voice rasped in her ear. Her eyes went wide. The dark man!

“You...you came back,” she whispered, relaxing against him.

“I never left. I’ve been here, in the forest, watching you. You’re a feast for the eyes when you bathe here. Do you know how many times I’ve taken myself in hand while I watched you?” he growled. “You push me too far tonight. I will have you or I will be driven insane.” He pushed his manhood in between her thighs as he held her from behind.

“No!” she said. He froze. _He stopped? Just because I said no? Oh…but that’s not..._ “I mean...not...not like this, from behind...I want to...from the front. I wish to see you.”

His grip on her waist tightened. “I’m a fright, little bird. I can give you pleasure, but not if you see me.”

“Please...I’ve been thinking of you all this time. I don’t even know your name,” she pleaded.

He was silent for a moment, his breath hot on her ear. It made the most pleasant sensation. Then he said, “Sandor.”

She smiled. “Hello, Sandor. My name is--”

“Sansa,” he whispered, almost reverently. “But I just think of you as ‘little bird’. My little bird.” She shivered, not unpleasantly.

He let go of her enough so that she could turn around. She looked down at his arms. _It must have been my scared imagination earlier to think he was covered in fur._ His arms and chest were indeed hairier than most of the men she knew, but no where near being fur-like. He ducked his head down when she peered at his face, hiding his scars behind long black hair. It was longer than she remembered, and she wondered if he hadn’t cut it since she had last seen him. She pushed the long strands back so she could see his face more clearly. He was still horribly disfigured. Her memory had been spot on for that, but he wasn’t scary. Not anymore, not since he pulled her away from that awful bear. She smiled at him and reached up to kiss him. It was better than she remembered. He used his tongue this time, thrilling her immensely. A boy, a son of her father’s friend, had kissed her once with tongue and it had been awful. This, however, this was wonderful. It made her ache and she pressed her body fully against his. It made her want to touch him all over.

“Little bird...I want to make you mine, to claim you. Will you be mine? My partner, my mate?” he said, holding her close. It was an odd choice of words, but she was touched by his asking for permission.

“Yes,” she replied. “You’ll need to speak with my parents, but yes, I’m yours. I won’t have any other if it’s not you.”

“You swear?”

“I swear on my heart. May it stop beating if I accept another in your place,” she swore, a solemn vow. She cried out softly as he slipped his hand between her legs and caressed her nub. She thought she might come undone just from his fingers, but she soon felt his manhood pressing against her entrance.

“This will hurt,” he said sadly, “but I will make it quick and then I will make it good. Do you trust me?”

She nodded, nearly weeping from his concern from her. Merry had told her stories of men who took without caring for their partner. This man was truly a treasure. “Yes, I trust you.”

He kissed her hard as he entered her, as he tore through her maidenhead. It was a mix of pain and joy. He kissed her as he moved in her, going slowly until her body had adjusted and she started to whimper for more. He pushed her back into the ground that bordered the pond, one of the higher sides. She grabbed onto what she could, allowing him more leverage to thrust into her. Her moans became louder.

The water they stood in was sloshing almost violently as his thrusts became manic. She cried out his name as she felt... _something…_ something wonderful, something just within reach. “Sandor...I…”

“Let it happen, little bird. Come for me, let me feel you lose control, let me hear your song.” She wanted to, oh, how she wanted to. This man, this dark, mysterious man, she was his now, and she would do anything to please him, and he seemed to want to please her in return. “Come for me, little bird,” he growled in her ear, his wonderfully raspy voice sending her over the edge as his manhood drove into her. She cried out as she fell into blissful oblivion. He thrust into her a few more times, extending her bliss, until he grunted and uttered her name. She felt a warmth blossom in her abdomen. _His seed,_ she realized, at first horrified. _Oh, but I’m his now. May it take root and grow into a strong, healthy child._

“Sorry, I meant to pull out,” he mutter softly. He sounded angry, but it was at himself. She kissed him gently.

“Don’t be. I’m yours. If your seed quickens in my womb, I’ll be proud to bear your child.” She gave him a shy smile.

“You really mean that, don’t you?” he asked in awe.

“Of course I do,” she replied. “Ah, but maybe speak to my parents for my hand sooner rather than later?” He laughed at that.

“Of course,” he said. “As soon as I can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say he moves fast, but he took three years to really talk to her, then WHOOSH. He's like a newbie driver that can't quite control the car.


	3. Getting To Know You

Sandor was loath to let her leave, but his enhanced ears could hear the revelry dying down and she would be missed if she didn’t return soon. They had stayed in the pond, touching each other. His little bird was far more innocent in her touches than him, but he had made her come twice more. “My father is out of town right now, but he should be back in a few weeks. My mother wouldn’t speak to you without him around,” she told him.

She promised to return as soon as she could, though she warned him it might not be for a few days. Her goodbye kiss had nearly led to another tumble, this time in the moss, but he managed to control himself enough to spare her from his physical affections. It always grew worse during the full moon. Once she was well and truly his, joined to him in marriage and in the eyes of the law and her people, she would grow to enjoy the frequent couplings, maybe even seek him out for them. The gods knew he wouldn’t deny her. For now, he would need to give her time, to rest and to adjust to his intrusion of her body. He still couldn't believe she had been so accepting of him, had expected her to be revolted by his touches and to send him away once she came to her senses. Instead, she had vowed herself to him, given him her heart and body.

_“I’ll be proud to bear your child.”_

His fists tightened. _She’s mine. Any man who tries to come between us will be dead at my hands._

**********

He waited by the pond for two days. He considered telling her the truth, of his status, of his...condition. She had already agreed to be his, surely he could tell her he was the high lord of the region? It should please her, to know she was marrying above her station. Or would she change her mind? She wasn’t like most of the other middle and lower class females. She was a good girl, and knew marrying so far above her own station would make _him_ an outcast, and even if he already was one among his social peers, she would rather ruin herself than ruin him. No, he could not tell her of his station until she said “I do.” As for his condition… _Probably best that she never knows about that._ He had almost slipped up the other night, coming upon her in the water in his wolfman form, but her initial fear had startled him into changing back to his man form before she could see it. She had accepted his ruined face already, he dare not ask for more than that.

On the third day, she arrived, happy and carefree. She joyously cried his name in greeting and jumped into his arms, kissing him soundly. She was eager for more, and he readily gave it to her. He insisted she kneel in front of the log and bend over it, telling her she would not be disappointed. She was doubtful, but agreed if he promised to take her from the front again for the next time. He didn’t let her undress completely, in case her brother came looking for her again, but she seemed to find her half dressed state just as alluring as being fully naked. He squeezed her bottom, lightly kissing it, nibbling and kissing a line from one hip to the other. She was very wet by the time he couldn’t hold back any longer. He slid in quite easily, though it was still a tight fit. He loved hearing her moans and panting, loved seeing her grip the log as he worked her up into a frenzy. He pinched her bottom, and her cunt squeezed him each time. He knew he shouldn’t spill his seed in her again, not until they were legally married, but when she cried out her pleasure and her cunt rippled and squeezed his cock, he remembered her words, and he emptied himself into her womb, hoping the child had her blue eyes.

**********

He had taken her from the pond to a field of sunflowers an hour’s walk away. They were lying next to each other, her lithe body curled up to his hulking one as they talked of everything and nothing at all. He learned that she was good at embroidery, had learned to manage a small household, and that she was ten years younger than him. He learned that she adored but was also jealous of her younger sister, who was a wild child and no one got mad at her when she misbehaved. “Mother scolds her, of course, but she never really gets _punished_ for her antics. If I did anything even half as bad as her, no, a _quarter_ as bad, I would be punished severely for it. Father and all of our brothers favor her more. Oh, I mean, they love me, but they just love her a little bit more, you know?” He kissed her brow and said he understood being the feeling of being the ignored child, no matter how much your family actually loved you.

“They’re holding you to a higher standard,” he told her. “It’s a compliment and a pain at the same time.” She agreed heartily with that one.

Her head was resting on his chest, and he felt almost peaceful. “Once my father returns, I’ll tell them you’re coming by. Oh! Here,” she reached to her braid and undid the ribbon in her hair. “Show them this, and they’ll know it’s you I’ve chosen. It’s my favorite ribbon, something I’ve worn for the longest time. Something I would not part with without good reason.”

She wound the ribbon around his wrist and tied it in a tidy bow. He gave it a covert sniff and smiled. Her strawberry scent was heavy on it.

“Now everyone will know you’re mine as well,” she said, hugging him possessively. He growled his contentment and was soon hovering over her, his large hands pinning her in place.

“Maybe you should mark me as yours,” he suggested. Her eyes darkened with desire, much to his delight. “I’m a lusty man, little bird. Think you can keep up?”

“I’ll try my best,” she promised, pulling his tunic off of him, then undoing the laces of his breeches. He stilled her hands and sat on his heels in between her legs. Even if he had been human, she would still have been easy to lift. Lifting her hips and placing her legs over his shoulders so that he could place his mouth on her cunt, he held onto her securely with one arm around her stomach and the other free to play with her breasts. He was grateful she hadn’t bothered to put her undergarments back on from earlier. Her skirt fell over her chest, but she kept it off of her face, gripping it in her hands as she used her elbows to balance herself. He licked her gently, tasting the remnants of his seed mixed with her own juices, teasing her until she begged him to take her. He still didn’t, enjoying her torment, until he couldn’t stand it anymore.

He laid her back on the ground and shoved his breeches down, guiding himself into her with haste. Her arms encircled his torso, her ankles locked behind his back, holding him close as he thrust into her. She cried his name when she came, and left long scratch marks on his back. He could not have been more pleased with her.

**********

They met as often as possible, always in the afternoons, sometimes in the evening or night as well, and always at the pond, though they did not always stay there. He told her he had work to do in the mornings (which was true though he crammed a whole day's work into the mornings), otherwise he’d have her morning, noon and evening. She blushed prettily and said in a small voice that she looked forward to when she lived with him as his wife and he could do just that.

He started to bring his horse with him, so that they could ride together. Stranger was a great beast of a horse, a perfect match for his beast of a master. His little bird was frightened at first, but the horse was meek as a lamb with her. Probably because he could smell his master’s claim on her. Riding on Stranger allowed him to go farther distances with her. They talked even more than they fucked, which Sandor found intriguing. Even more so, he _liked_ talking with her. He had found her pleasing to look upon, as well as had a vague idea of her personality from watching her, but getting to know her was just a marvel. She knew a lot of things, and could chirp about most subjects he was familiar with. She told him about her family. He had seen them from a distance, and from when he stalked through the village in the night shadows, but he didn’t really know them until she spoke of them.

Her cousin Jon was the eldest of all the children who lived in the Stark household. He was the bastard son of a lord and Sansa’s aunt. She had given her son into the care of her brother, and stayed in the lord’s household. The lord’s wife had been frail and had born him two children before she and the third child died in childbirth. Sansa’s aunt had been his comfort during his mourning, and from what Sansa understood, they truly did love each other, but their stations prevented them from marrying. His bastard son was well cared for, and the boy would often accompany Eddard Stark when he went to visit his sister two regions away. It was well known that Jon was Eddard’s nephew, but it was believed that he was the son of Brandon Stark, Eddard and Lyanna’s eldest brother, who had died the year Jon was born.

Her elder brother, Robb, had a noble heart, and had been sought after by the single women in the village, but had married a woman of better birth than him because they had been caught together by the woman’s uncles. His little bird suspected her new goodsister had trapped him in marriage, otherwise her father, Mr. Frey, would never have agreed to the union. Sansa was the second child, the third being her younger sister Arya, the wild girl. Her younger brother Bran was nicknamed Brain because he was so smart. He was studying to become a maester and would leave to the Citadel in the next year. Her youngest brother, Rickon, was just as wild as Arya, but it was more acceptable because he was a boy. “As if gender had anything to do with it!” she exclaimed. “Our children will know their manners, and when to use them.” He laughed at told her he would try his best to support her lessons to them, but his own manners were shite. She had gone red when he said that, and only after he prodded her did she tell him in an embarrassed voice, “Just as well, I probably never would have fallen for you if you were a polished gentleman.” He had really laughed at that and proved how much of a non-gentleman he was by flipping her skirt up and bringing her to orgasm with just his fingers right then and there.

She only asked him of his family once. He supposed that he must have been very disgruntled over it, as he vaguely told her of his dead siblings and parents, since she had never asked again, even though she told him stories of her siblings and parents nearly every time they met. He told her vaguely of his life, trying to keep any mentions of his station out of the conversation. He knew she thought he was a woodsman and he hadn’t deterred her from thinking that. After one particularly passionate fuck they had during an evening at the pond, he told her how he received his scars. How his brother, Gregor, had shoved his face into the fireplace. How his father had covered it up. How one by one, his family started dying mysteriously until it was just him and Gregor. He knew it was Gregor that killed their parents, killed their sister, now he would try to kill Sandor. He told her how he had survived a wolf attack while Gregor was eaten alive when they were traveling across the land. She cried for him, the stupid, darling, loving person that she was. She had kissed him all over, wiped away his own tears, and he had taken her again, just half an hour after their last coupling. She was a balm to his lonely soul, his own personal aphrodisiac and he loved her for it.

He didn’t mention they were traveling to see the king when the wolf attacked them. It was so that Gregor could be appointed the new High Lord of Winterfell. They were found the next day, what little was left of Gregor and a broken young boy. The king, not much older than Sandor, had taken insisted that he stay in the castle until he was old enough to rule over Winterfell. “Stay and learn with me,” he said. He hadn’t know the young king meant more than learning how to govern. He thought he was going mad the first time he changed forms. It was the king, in his own wolfish form, that had stopped him from attacking the good people of the kingdom. They had run together in the King’s Forest until the sun rose.

“I had heard of your brother,” he told Sandor later, when they were both back in human form. “I couldn’t have him as a High Lord if any of the stories were true. So I travelled to your region, followed the two of you as you came to the capital. I learned your natures. I knew he had to die, but that you would rise in his place and be a better lord than he ever could.” He touched Sandor’s shoulder, where the wolf bite had scarred over. “I didn’t think you’d try to rescue your brutal brother. It just shows you to be a kinder person than I expected. I’m sorry I passed this curse on to you, but before you go back home, I will teach you to control your wolf side, so that it doesn’t control you. You will become a good High Lord, but you will need to keep a distance from your people for a while.”

**********

It had been nearly four weeks since that first night at the pond, when she told him two pieces of news. Her father, sister, and cousin would be home in two days. He had sent a messenger ahead, telling her mother to prepare a feast for a visitor that was arriving with them. The second made him forget the first, she had missed her moonblood. He had hugged her so tightly, she had to push him away just to be able to breathe, but she allowed him a second hug, that time he was more careful. “It might be a false alarm, or I might miscarry,” she said, “I won’t know for sure until I miss three moonbloods, but I was just so happy!”  His nose twitched as he hugged her a third time. He could just barely smell the difference and that was only because he was looking for it. It was likely that she had only gotten pregnant a little more than a week ago, give or take a few days. _Probably the night I told her about my family._ He couldn’t tell her that, but when he got back to his castle, he had his valet get his best clothing ready for when he would go see Eddard Stark. He’d be damned if he let his little bird be marked a fallen woman or his child be born a bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If he can marry her quick, no need to hide the pregnancy for long! Yay!


	4. Introductions Are In Order

Sansa woke up early the day her father was due to arrive home. She was so excited. Mother had let her plan the entire feast, telling her that cost was not to be worried about. Sansa had squealed at that, but her frugal nature didn’t let her spend too much more than what she normally would. She had splurged on the main dish and on the main dessert, since her mother had impressed upon her the importance of putting their best foot forward for their guest. She wanted to ask her mother if she could invite Sandor to the feast, but even if she got permission, she wouldn’t have time to go tell him, even if he was at the pond. She regretted not knowing where in the forest he lived. She hadn’t even thought to ask until yesterday after she left him, though she imagined it was a small cottage deep in the forest, near a river or spring. He had told her that his home was dark and cold, devoid of things that make a house a home, but he had also told her that she would be allowed free reign to make it comfortable for her to live in. She was already making a quilt for their marriage bed, but she had told her mother it was just for practicing stitches. She hated lying to her, but Mother wouldn’t understand, not until Sandor spoke to Father. _He said he would visit Father after lunch tomorrow. I must be patient._ She held her hand over her abdomen. _For the sake of the child possibly growing inside me, I will be patient!_

**********

Father, Arya and Jon finally arrived back home, the caravan that had gone with them looked worse for wear, but they were home and in one piece and that was more than cause to celebrate. As much as she had complained to Sandor about her sister, she had truly missed her and she hugged her tightly when they met again. Arya must have felt the same, because she hugged Sansa tightly in return. Jon gave her warm greetings before going over to her brothers. Father was last and she hugged him so tightly. “Father, I must speak with you,” she said in his ear as she embraced him.

“And I with you, my dear girl.” He let go of her and looked her up and down. “You’ve grown even more beautiful than when we left, Sansa. He will be pleased.”

She tilted her head in confusion. “Who will, Father?”

“Sansa, you’ve heard of High Lord Farfennugen, yes?” he asked her.

“Of course, he is well known for his philanthropic endeavors with the small folk in his region. Tales of his generosity have spread throughout the entire kingdom. Why do you ask?” She felt her chest tighten with worry. _Mother insisted that I plan out the feast when it’s usually her pride to do so._

“He is here, visiting with us. He was at Lord Targaryen’s estate, and heard me speak of my beautiful elder daughter. He had to get back to his home, but when we left, I sent him a missive to join us so that he may meet you and see your beauty for himself. He caught up with us a week after we left Dragonstone and has every intention of asking for your hand if he finds you suitable. Isn’t this wonderful news, my dear?” Her father looked so happy, but she couldn’t feel the same. She had sworn herself to Sandor, a lowly woodsman, the man who had captured her heart. Farfennugen could not possibly compete with that, no matter how rich or generous he was. _He’s a High Lord, a station above Aunt Lyanna’s lover! What could he possibly want with me? Beautiful or not, I’m so far below him...even with Robb’s union to Merry._ “Smile, daughter, here he is,” Ned said brightly.

“My dear lady, it is a pleasure to meet you. Your father’s stories of your beauty have not done you justice,” the man said, bowing low to greet her and kiss her hand.

“I-- It is good to make your acquaintance, High Lord Farfennugen. I have heard many good things of you,” she said, her heart sinking. The man stood up. He was shorter than her, with pale skin and even paler eyes, almost white. He smile spread wide across clean, even teeth, but it made her skin crawl.

“Please, High Lord Farfennugen is much too formal. Call me Ramsay.”

**********

“Father, please, do not accept his proposal. I beg of you,” Sansa pleaded with Ned that night. They were in Ned’s small study.

“Sansa, what is wrong with you? We cannot say no to someone of his station. He does you a great honor by asking for your hand. And with your brother’s marriage to Merry, you have been made more eligible for such a match!” Her father was well and truly baffled by her reluctance.

“I know, Father, but he is so odd! I just have a bad feeling about him. I...I’ll run away if you insist that I marry him!”

“Sansa…” her father sighed. “No, you won’t. Running away would shame our family, would shame Robb’s new wife and her family. You wouldn’t do that to them. And, yes, the man is a bit off, but he’s eccentric! He’s harmless, you’ll see.”

“But I don’t want to leave here,” she said.

“Sansa, you’ll have to leave home if you want to marry,” he reminded her.

“Yes, but...his estate is so far away! I...I had hoped to marry someone who lives in this region, like Robb did. Maybe a miller...or...or a woodsman…” she said, casting her eyes down.

Her father laughed. “Such a good girl, but you needn’t worry about that. Farfennugen will take good care of you, you won’t need to worry about money or working and you can be a lady of leisure.”

“But I like working hard!” she exclaimed. “I like being outdoors, I like that I have to work to take care of my family. It gives me purpose and strength,” she said. “And I don’t want to be called _Lady Farfennugen!”_ She felt ready to cry.

“Sansa, if he asks for your hand, I will grant it to him,” Ned said sternly. “I must do what is best for the family.”

“What if I loved someone else?” she asked angrily. “What if I swore to another that I would be his bride?!”

Ned looked at her with sadness. “You cannot make such a promise and you know that. Is there someone you made that promise to?”

She bit her lip, debating on telling the truth or not. The possible child in her belly made the decision for her. “There is.”

“Then you must let him down gently. I’m so sorry, daughter, but you must think of your family.”

**********

Sansa sat beside the pond, silent sobs wracking her body. She had been waiting since sundown, had missed the feast she had so dutifully prepared to welcome back her family. The half moon was high in the sky by the time Sandor appeared.

“Little bird, what’s wrong?” he asked, collecting her in his arms.

“Oh, Sandor…” she cried. “Everything, everything is wrong!”

He looked uncomfortable with her distress, but to his credit, he tried his best. He didn’t say anything, most likely because he didn’t know _what_ to say, but she found his presence comfort enough.

“Let’s run away together, far, far away, to a land where no one knows us, and we can live and raise our family in peace,” she pleaded with him. “Please? Please, can we?”

“Little bird, Sansa, tell me what’s wrong. You love living here, you love this forest, you said you wanted to conceive all of our children in this forest.” She blushed at the reminder. He had taken her three times that day and she had been giddy from pleasure.

“I...I did say that, and I meant it!” She gripped his tunic tightly. “But Father...Father is going to accept a marriage proposal for me from a _lord!”_ she cried.

“Wha--what’s wrong with marrying a lord?” he asked, startled.

She looked at him like he was crazy. “Everything! He’s not you!”

“Oh, right.” He held her tightly. She felt confused by his words, but figured he must have been startled enough by the news to ask such a silly question.

“Not just any lord, but a _high lord._ Maybe...maybe we can petition High Lord Clegane to allow us to marry without my father’s permission?” she said softly. “I hear he’s a bit of a recluse, but it is also said that he and the king are like brothers! If he spoke for us, Father would _have_ to set aside this awful betrothal! Surely...surely if we’re persistent enough, he’d allow us to speak and hear us out!”

“About that…” he said, but shook his head. “Did you tell your father about the possibility of our child?”

“No, I was scared.” She curled more into his embrace.

“Would he make you get rid of the child?” he asked in a fierce whisper, his fingers digging into her skin. She touched his hand and he let go, but she could still feel his grip on her arms. It was comforting, in an odd way.

“I...I don’t know. I would normally say no, but I didn’t expect him to tell me to marry against my will either. Sandor, what are we to do? Father expects me to tell you I won’t marry you, but I swore I would and I want to marry you and have your children and keep house for you and be with you for as long as we both shall live!” She started crying again. “I won’t marry him, Sandor! I’ll join a sept before I do that!”

“Hush, now little bird, quit your chirping. This lord hasn’t asked for your hand yet, has he?” Sandor was stroking her hair, letting his hand travel down her back with each stroke.

“No, he probably won’t ask until tomorrow.” She began to calm. Sandor was often turbulent in his moods and affections, which she rather enjoyed if she was being honest, but sometimes he was like a deep well, with still waters that ran deep. This was one of those times.

“Then forget waiting until the afternoon. I’ll come at first light and demand your hand in marriage.” He grasped her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. No one, not even your father, can prevent me from making you my wife. If it comes down to it, I’ll steal you away and we can start a new life in another kingdom.”

She smiled up at him. “I love you, Sandor.”

He took her once more, quiet yet demanding lovemaking. He was whispering more to himself that to her, “You’re mine. You’re mine,” but she felt the same way. _Yes, claim me, my love, my Sandor. Make me yours, as you have been made mine._ When she climaxed, she felt as if her heart left her body and settled into Sandor. He would protect it, of that she was sure.

**********

Sandor held onto her tightly before pushing her down the road back to the village. “If you don’t go now, I’ll steal you away without even bothering with your father,” he said gruffly. She smiled at him and turned towards the village. She heard his boots crunching in the opposite direction as he led Stranger away. She wanted to run back and disappear with him into the woods, but her father was right. She was a good girl. She wouldn’t cause her family to panic and worry, and she would do things the _right_ way. Sandor would be her husband, not High Lord Farfennugen. She was halfway back to the village when a voice startled her.

“Nice evening for a walk?” he asked her, stepping out from behind a tree that lined that path. A lit lantern was in his hand. He had kept it dim, but now that he had revealed himself, he turned it to full light.

“High Lord Farfennugen, I thought you would be at the feast,” she said, trying to keep her heart calm, but her instincts were telling her to run. She took a step back, hoping it was hidden by her skirt. She was fairly certain she could outrun the man, and she knew these woods much better than he did.

“I asked you to call me Ramsay, remember? And I was at the feast, but I started to feel ill and excused myself. Imagine my surprise when I see you walking alone towards the dark woods. Of course, being a true gentleman, I thought I should escort you to wherever your destination was.”

“I...forgive me, I would have been favorable to your company, had I known you were there,” she said, lying through her teeth.

“Would you?” he asked, that creepy, fake smile on his face yet again. “Even if you were, I doubt your companion would have been.” She felt the warmth leave her body. How much had he heard? How much had he seen? “I couldn’t hear what the two of your spoke of, but I can guess. Had to keep my distance if I didn’t want that war horse of his catching my scent. If I had known you liked being fucked by a monster, I wouldn’t have made such an effort to be so charming. It was more for your father’s sake than yours, but still.”

She said through clenched teeth, “He’s not a monster.”

“Maybe he placed a spell on you? I heard some monsters can do that. Do you think he’ll grow tired of you once your beauty fades? I think it’ll be once your body begins to sag after your fifth child. Maybe your sixth. He _will_ throw you away eventually, my dear. He’ll kept the children, because they’ll be good and strong like him, plus it’ll help him find a new, younger wife, one who pities the poor babes for having no mother. And then you’ll have nothing, except a broken body, a broken spirit, and maybe your family will have pity and take you in.” He still smiled his creepy, fake smile.

“You know nothing of us,” she hissed.

“I know enough.” He grabbed at her wrist. She spun on her heel and started running, but there was a crack in the air and then she was falling face first into the ground. Her head was spinning, but she could feel her ankles were bound. _A whip...he was carrying a whip??_ “There, now be a good girl and don’t fight back. Or do. Doesn’t make much difference for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how I came up with Farfennugen...I know it's a German word, and I know I did not spell it correctly, but I did that on purpose, since the meaning of the German word isn't significant here.


	5. The Last Resort

Sandor was heading towards the village before the sun rose. The bright pinkish orange rays were just appearing as he guided Stranger to the Stark residence. It was one of the larger homes in the village, marking them as well to do. Eddard Stark was a trader, a good one with a reputation for finding hard to locate objects. Sandor’s father had done business with the man when he had been alive. Sandor himself hadn’t really needed Stark’s services, but now he needed the most precious thing Stark had to give, Sansa’s hand. He didn’t want to play the High Lord card, but desperate times call for desperate measures. He planned to save it as a last resort.

He secured Stranger’s reigns to the empty post outside their front door and walked up to the residence. Shifting his hair to cover the burn scars on his face, he knocked on the door. He could hear movement inside, and a woman who looked like an older version of Sansa answered the door. She frowned at him. “What do you want?”

She was staring at him in disgust. “Need to speak to Eddard Stark,” he said, trying to keep his anger in check.

“My husband is indisposed at the moment,” she said, looking down her nose at him, which was quite a feat since she was even shorter than Sansa, and he towered over his little bird.

“Cat, who is it?” he heard a deep voice call out.

“No one, dear, just a drifter looking for work,” she called back, glaring at him, daring him to contradict her.

“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered and pushed open the door enough to call out to Stark. “Stark, need to talk to you. It’s important.”

Catelyn Stark started huffing and puffing about what a vulgar man he was and how dare he intrude on a family home. He ignored her, but wondered how his little bird could be so sweet when her mother was such a harpy.

Ned Stark entered the room. He hesitated when he saw the mangled half of Sandor’s face, but he smiled and offered his hand in greeting. He led Sandor to his study, his wife in hot pursuit of them. “What’s this about?”

Sandor swallowed hard. He had been confident last night, but now that he stood in front of Sansa’s parents, he was nervous and his hands felt shaky. “I...I’ve come about your daughter, Sansa.”

Catelyn’s frown became a snarl. “She’s spoken for.”

“You’ve accepted an offer then?” he asked Ned. Ned glanced at his wife.

“Not yet, but we expect an offer later today.” He saw Catelyn glare at her husband.

“Then I’d like to offer for her hand--”

“Over my dead body,” Catelyn growled.

“Cat!” Ned shouted. “If you cannot be calm, then go to another room.” Catelyn grumbled, but went to sit down in the chair near Ned’s desk. Sandor supposed that was her compromise.

“Mr. Stark, I love your daughter, and she loves me. She gave me this as proof to show you.” He pulled back his jacket sleeve to show them the ribbon. Ned’s jaw clenched. His emotions were fighting his logic. Sandor continued, trying appease the man, “I can provide well for her, make sure she never wants for anything, and we would live nearby, so you’d be able to see her without much travel.”

“All good points, Mr…”

“Sandor.”

“Those are all very good points, Mr. Sandor, but the man who plans to offer for her is a high lord, a position second only to royalty. You may be able to take care of her, but he would be able to take care of our entire family, the alliance alone would open up new opportunities for our other children, and for my nephew.” Ned looked chagrined about the fact.

“Is that what it takes then? You’d sell your daughter off like chattel just to make _your_ life better? A man who loves and cherishes her has no way to compete with someone who sees her as nothing more than _property?!”_ he snarled.

“Sansa is a good girl and knows her duty to her family,” Ned said in a strained voice. “She will marry someone who will help us, regardless of how she feels--”

“Then why did she come to me last night and beg me to take her away?! I was the one that convinced her to come back home, to do things by the book. I could have stolen her and you would never have known it,” he growled.

Ned frowned. “Sansa wouldn’t--”

“She would and she tried to.” Sandor ran his hand through his hair in frustration, exposing his scars. “I didn’t want to do this, but you leave me no choice.” He reached into his pocket. Catelyn jumped up. “Calm down, woman. It’s just my credentials.” He pulled out a leather wallet and handed it to Ned.

The man took it hesitantly and opened it. Sandor crossed his arms over his chest. The stream of surprise, disbelief and awe would have been amusing if this entire ordeal wasn’t so damn frustrating. “Ned? What is it? Who is he?” Catelyn asked, coming to her husband’s side and looking over his shoulder. She gasped as she read it. “High Lord Clegane!”

“I didn’t want Sansa to know,” he said quietly. “Like you said, she’s a good girl. She would have treated me as a lord instead of a man if she knew, and she would _never_ have agreed to marry me. I make no niceties about the situation. She and your family are far below my station, but I don’t give a rat’s ass about that. I love her, and I want her as my wife. I could have used my position to forcibly take her before, when I first met her, but instead I satisfied myself with watching over her, protecting her when I could. When we met again, I discovered that she felt something for me, and I didn’t let that go. I couldn’t. People see me and they see one of two things, my scars or my position. Sansa...she managed to see past the first, somehow, and I didn’t want the second to become an issue.” It was the most he had spoken to anyone besides Sansa in a long time. He felt drained. “As High Lord Sandor Clegane, but most importantly, as a man in love, I humbly ask for your daughter Sansa’s hand in marriage.”

Ned stared at him. Sandor could see the conflict in him, the emotion and logic fighting against each other.

“I accept your offer, my lord,” Ned said quietly. “High Lord Farfennugen will be disappointed, but--”

“Farfennugen? That old fart? He’s never wanted a wife. Probably playing a prank on you. Oh, sure, he’s generous with those less fortunate for him, but it comes at the cost of his sense of humor,” Sandor said, rolling his eyes. “The man has been a confirmed bachelor for the past fifty-seven years. The king is constantly trying to get him to marry to at least produce an heir.”

“I’m sorry, did you say...fifty-seven years?” Ned asked incredulously.

“Yeah, let’s see, as the story goes, he was ten when he declared he’d never marry, and he’s sixty-seven now… Oh, but you can ask him yourself.” Sandor pointed out the window. “Here comes his carriage. Pompous ass, you’d think he ran the damn kingdom himself with all the pomp and circumstance he puts on, but he always has good liquor.” Ned and Catelyn watched as a plump, balding man in fancy dress poked his head out of the carriage. Sandor had to admit that Varys didn’t _look_ sixty-seven, more like early to mid-fifties, but their shock seemed a bit much. They all watched as he was helped down by his driver and made his way to the door. Ned and Catelyn were still in shock as Varys knocked. Sandor shook his head and went to answer the door.

“Oh! High Lord Clegane! Fancy meeting you here,” Varys said in his saccharine, sarcastic tone.

“Shut it, Varys. Come on in and tell the nice Starks you were just playing a joke on them. We’ll all have a good laugh, and you can be a witness to the miracle of the century.” Sandor shut the door on Varys’ driver before the man could walk in.

“And what joke would that be?” Varys asked with an amused grin. “I was invited here by Eddard Stark and only just arrived.” He looked around, “Though by the looks of things, maybe I could stay with you tonight?”

“What do you mean, you just got here?” Sandor asked, his eyes narrowing at his peer.

“Who is this?” Ned asked, finally finding his voice. Catelyn seemed to still be in shock, which was fine by Sandor.

“What do _you_ mean, who is this?” he asked his future goodfather. “This is High Lord Varys Farfennugen. He runs the Kinslanding region of the kingdom, just as I run the Winterfell region.”

“That’s not the man I met,” Ned said, his voice becoming tight. “That’s not the man who was interested in my daughter.”

“Oh?” Varys’ expression did not change much, but Sandor noticed the slight shift in his countenance. “Who did you meet then?”

“He said his name was High Lord _Ramsay_ Farfennugen,” Catelyn said in a strangled voice. “Oh gods...he was upset when Sansa wasn’t at the feast last night. I thought she was feeling ill and told him so, that she was in her room…” She ran out of the room.

“Ramsay? I have no kin with that name. There is a bastard boy by the name Ramsay that lived in my region. His father, a lessor lord, took him in when he was just a babe, though he was an awful man and an even worse father. The boy killed him when he was twelve, and took such delight in the act. He’s violently crazy. He killed several more people in the years following that incident before he was caught. He was sent to the Quiet Isle, but he never made it there. Supposedly, the boat he was on capsized and he drowned. Tell me, Mr. Stark, what did this Ramsay look like?”

“Pale skin, nearly white eyes, bit of a creepy smile,” Ned said, his voice ringing with disbelief over the situation.

“It would seem that Ramsay did not drown after all then,” Varys said. “That’s a shame. He was a terrible person.”

“Why would he go after my daughter?” Ned asked, collapsing on the couch. “He had never met her before.”

“Who knows why Ramsay does what he does?” Varys said, shrugging his shoulders. “At least he didn’t get his hands on her. He takes pleasure in breaking spirits as much as he breaks the body of his victims.”

“She’s gone!” Catelyn screamed, bursting back into the room. “Oh gods, Ned, she’s gone!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually like Catelyn as a character, but I keep making her the bad guy lately...well, minor bad guy. I feel kind of bad about that.


	6. Never Take A Wolf's Bride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Switching back and forth between POVs in this chapter. Here we go!

Sansa was fuming.  _ The nerve of this man! _ She was starting to wonder if he was really a high lord at all. His manners were atrocious, his speech was condescending, and his hygiene left much to be desired. All of that she would have suffered through in silence, but now he was insulting Sandor and there was nothing she could do. He had gagged her before she had a chance to scream, and then tied her hands behind her back, secured her to the horse he had brought for her. At least she was sitting up. She tried to make some noise, a sound of disgust, to show that she did not appreciate what he was saying about her future husband, but the intolerable man ignored her completely!

She tried to console herself with thoughts of Sandor, but the longer they rode, the more it seemed like she’d never see him again.  _ No, have faith! Sandor will come for you. Somehow. Even though he has no idea where you are and this Ramsay person is erasing any trail you are possibly making. _ She knew it was nearly impossible for Sandor to rescue her, but she refused to give up hope, or else she would be completely lost.  _ If it comes down to it, I’ll rescue myself! _

**********

_ “What do you mean, she’s gone?!” _ Sandor roared.

Catelyn winced. “She’s not in her room, the bed...I don’t think she slept in it.”

The younger sister wandered in, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Are you talking about Sansa?”

“Darling, have you seen your sister?” Catelyn asked, kneeling in front of her other daughter.

“No, I waited up for her. She was going to go see the man she promised to marry, and then was going to come back. I fell asleep sometime around the hour of the bat, I think. I thought she might have run off with him, since Father was trying to marry her to someone else.” Arya looked up at Sandor. “You’re him, aren’t you? The man she loves. She described you. You must really be a good person if she loves you in spite of a face like that.”

“Arya!” her mother exclaimed. “This is High Lord Clegane. You must speak to him with courtesy.”

“Why? He hates that sort of thing.” Sandor raised an unburnt brow at the girl. A tentative sniff.

“You’re Nan,” he said with slow realization.

“Nan?” Ned and Catelyn asked in unison.

Arya shrugged her shoulders. “You were bugging all of us, especially Sansa, about getting married to help lighten the load on our finances. I got a job at the Keep as a cleaner. Jon knew, but only because he caught me sneaking out once.” She turned back to Sandor. “So what are you here for? I didn’t tell Sansa who you were, though from her description I knew it was you.”

“Came to ask for Sansa’s hand. Your father has deemed me worthy and accepted my offer,” he said gruffly, “but it seems she’s now missing. If you’ll excuse me…”

“Where are you going?” Varys asked.

“Where do you think? I’m going to go find Sansa,” he snarled before leaving.

**********

He rode Stranger back to the pond. Dismounting from the war horse, he took off all his clothing and placed them in the satchel attached to Stranger’s saddle. He need to go full wolf for this, and he didn’t want to rip his good clothes for it. He was about to remove his trousers when he heard, “What the hell are you doing?!”

He turned and saw the younger Stark girl. “Get on home, girl. There’s no place for you here.”

“Like hell I’m leaving. My sister is missing,” she hissed. “Father is setting up a search party, but it’ll take hours and she may not have that time.”

“Fuck everything,” he groaned. “I don’t have time for this shit! Fine, have it your way. You tell anyone what you’re about see, and, sister or not, I’ll rip your fucking throat out.” He heard her make a disgusted snort as he removed his trousers and placed them in the satchel.

Naked as his nameday, he stretched his arms forward as the change took place. It was slightly painful going from man to wolf instead of the in between state of wolfman, but he ignored the pain. He heard the little Stark bitch utter, “Seven fucking hells…” He ignored her, too, focusing on this rarely used shape. Scents were sharper in this form than the other two. He growled at Stranger to follow him. The horse snuffled displeasure but followed. Sandor heard the horse whinny and looked back to see Arya had jumped up on Stranger’s saddle.  _ Well, that’s one way she can keep up. _ Sandor followed Sansa’s scent halfway back to the village when it was interrupted by another scent.  _ This must be the impersonator. He reeks of death and carnage. _ He could see the signs of a struggle.  _ Good girl. _

“There was no blood, no drag marks, just the scuffle and then two sets of footprints, one of which looks reluctant, so she’s not dead, at least not at this point in her path,” the Stark bitch said, looking down at the ground. Sandor gave a wolfy snort, as if to say he had already figured that out. He followed the trail.

It lead him down a smaller pathway, little used. The scent of horses, two of them. The humans’ scents became almost non-existent, so they must have mounted the horses. He followed that trail, Stranger and Arya close behind him, straining for the scent of strawberries. 

**********

Sansa sat in front of the fire pit Ramsay had built in front of the house, still bound, but at least the seat was comfortable. They had traveled for days with little rest and he had blindfolded her for parts of it. To disorient her, she supposed, but Sandor had been teaching her how to navigate in unknown places. If she could just get away from this horrid man, she was (mostly) certain she could (eventually) find her way back to Sandor. She sighed. First she needed to get free from the bindings. She heard a twig snap behind her. Ramsay appeared a few minutes later, carrying a large pot. He set it over the fire pit. 

“Once you have acclimated to our home, this will become your job,” he said. She glared at him, but he only chuckled. “I look forward to acclimating you.”

They sat in silence, with Ramsay checking on the pot and stirring every so often. 

“Why me?” she asked, unable to bear the silence. “Why take me? Mr. Frey has plenty of daughters that are much better suited to living with you and would be more than willing to be your wife.”

“Ugly bitches, the whole lot of them. How can I bear to even look at them, much less fuck them. My cock shrivels just thinking of their faces.” He looked bored by the conversation. Suddenly, he grinned. “Tell me, my dear, how many times did you lay with the monster? The time that I saw you together, that was certainly not the first time you let him fuck you.”

Her cheeks burned with anger that their special spot had been sullied by this man. “What does that have to do with anything?” she asked. She honestly had no idea, but even if she did know, she wasn’t about to tell  _ him. _

“Because I need to know how strong to make the moontea, of course,” he said with that fake smile of his. “If you’re pregnant with his bastard, I mean. Too strong, and you might be rendered barren. Not strong enough, and it won’t kill any of his seed that may have taken root. Can’t be raising his bastard as mine. If you’re not pregnant, then it won’t have any side effects.”

“Wh-what?! I’m not drinking moontea.”

“Of course you will,” he said patiently. “You will be my wife and you will have  _ my _ children. Your father was more than willing to give you to me.”

“Because he thought you were a High Lord! He wouldn’t have even considered it if he knew you were really…” She looked around. “Actually, what do you do? This doesn’t look like the home of someone who makes his living in the woods.”

“I have money from my father. I don’t need to work. I hire people to make trips out here to take care of this place. Now that you’re here, I won’t need them. And once I  _ acclimate _ you, you’ll know your place. You’ll happily bear my children and feed my various appetites.” His unblinking stare and belief sent a horrified shudder through her. 

_ I have to get free! _

**********

Neither Sandor nor Arya were willing to let up on their pace. Stranger was the one who had to remind them to stop and rest, usually by foaming at the mouth. Even then, they only rested for mere hours at a time. Twice they lost the trail, the bastard had crossed a river and there had been a rainstorm, but Sandor was persistent and eventually found the scent again. He was surprised that Arya was actually helpful. While he was following the trail, she would be hunting and scavenging, and made the most of their short rests, cooking meat over an open fire that warmed them during the cold mountain nights, making sure they didn’t die of starvation or exposure. “Sorry for the quality of the meal. Sansa’s the better cook of the two of us. It’s at least edible.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, though he knew she was right. Sansa had brought him meals during their rendezvous, and jokingly told him she flavored it with love. Arya’s cooking could be described as being flavored with grit and determination. It was for survival, and that was something he could understand. 

**********

Sansa discovered that Ramsay really liked to hear himself talk. Really,  _ really _ liked to hear himself talk. He had been talking for nearly three hours about his childhood, his father, and how he had pulled a fast one over his father. It was disturbing and also slightly boring. Clearly, the man was a few flowers short of a bouquet. 

On the plus side, he was so concentrated on talking, he didn’t notice Sansa working on the bindings holding her wrists behind her back. On the minus side, his monotone voice was lulling her to sleep. She had to fight to stay awake. It didn’t help that it had been a long day, a long week of riding. Her body was exhausted, and it was (maybe) trying to create a new life to boot. Her head drooped, despite her resistance, and she nodded off to sleep. 

She didn’t know how long she was asleep, but when she woke up, Ramsay was gone. She thought she heard movement coming from the house.  _ He must be in there. _ She tested her bindings and was surprised to find they were ripped apart.  _ Wha… Sandor? Is he here? Did he free me? Or is Ramsay trying to play mind games? _

He walked out of the house. “Oh good, you’re awake. Moontea should be ready soon, about ten more minutes, I’d say. I decided to just brew it strong and hope for the best on you surviving with your fertility intact. If you don’t, well, at least fucking you will still be fun.”

She glared at him. He laughed and walked back inside. As soon as the door closed behind him, she shook off her wrist restraints and quickly untied the ankle ones. One last check towards the house, and she was off, running down the pathway that lead away from the house. She ran for about five minutes, then slipped into the forest, being careful to leave as little a trail as possible. She wished desperately that her brothers had taught her as much as they had taught Arya, but Arya, at least, had passed on some of that knowledge when they went scavenging for mushrooms and berries. Sandor had taught her how to navigate with the sun, and he had started teaching her how to navigate with the stars, but they often got distracted when looking at the night sky. The sun was shining now, though it was rapidly falling towards the horizon. When she had been able to see, she had noticed that Ramsay took them in an easterly direction, meaning she had to head west if she wanted to get back.  _ Head into the sun, that’s where home is, that’s where Sandor is. I can do this, I can survive! _

**********

The scent was getting stronger. Sandor shifted to his wolfman form, pulled his trousers out of Stranger’s satchel and dressed before shifting to his human form and pulling his shirt on. “She’s close.”

“So you didn’t tell her about being a High Lord, and you didn’t tell her about...this…” she gestured to all of him. “You’re all about the honesty, according to the people who work for you. So… Why?”

He sighed. “She wouldn’t have given me a chance if she knew about the lordship. Any other woman would jump at the chance, to rise up not one, but  _ four _ social classes. Not your sister. She would turn it down, because she wouldn’t want to bring shame to…” He shook his head. “You know she would.”

Arya huffed. “Yeah, I know. Marrying her is going to make you an outcast among the nobles.”

“Maybe with the lesser lords, but the High Lords are an eccentric bunch. You saw Varys. He’s ridiculous. He’s one of ‘calmer’ High Lords. Doesn’t matter what any of them think, at least to me it doesn’t. But she would think it matters and would refuse me, so I won’t tell her until she’s my wife.”

“Bit underhanded.” 

“Don’t care, not if it gets me her.” He shoved his boots on. 

“And the...wolf...thing?”

He stilled. His jaw worked, clenching and unclenching. “She wouldn’t want me. At all.”

“You sure about that?” He looked at Arya. She had her arms crossed over her chest. “I mean, you met Sansa how long ago?”

“About three years.”

“And when you got to know her…?”

“About a month ago.”

“Ok, well, then one thing you should know about her, if you’re honest with her, she’ll listen to you. If you tell her about this  _ condition _ of yours, tell her all of it, explain why you kept it from her, she’ll listen. She’ll be mad, but she’ll get over it. She won’t dismiss you for it.”

He stared at her. “Why are you telling me all this?”

She shrugged. “Sansa’s...she’s changed since she met you. She would have gone along with the supposed marriage, never spoken against it. She would have been the good girl. The miserable girl. All for the sake of family.” She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “There’s some things you gotta do for family. And then there’s some things you gotta do for yourself. I just want my sister to be happy. I want all of my siblings to be happy. Our parents...they mean well, they really do. But it’s not them that has to live these lives they choose for us. She made a choice. She chose you. And I choose to respect that. So, I will help you keep her, give you your best chance to keep her, I mean. Just be honest with her, trust her. That’s all she really wants. Now, are you ready?”

Sandor blinked. “Yeah. I’m ready. You stay with Stranger. When we get closer, keep your distance, but not too far. If I need back up, I’ll call for you.”

“Lead the way then.”

They came upon a house, the style out of place for the forest. Sansa’s scent was strongest near the fire pit. He didn’t hear anyone around and beckoned Arya to come forward. It was harder to follow the scent when he was in human form, but there was hope. The scent, it wasn’t old, maybe half an hour, at the very most. Then the wind shifted. He ran around the side of the house, following the new scent. Arya was a few steps behind him. They found it behind the house. It reeked of the same scent the fake Lord Farfennugen carried with him. Blood. Carnage. Death.

“Wh-what is this?” Arya asked, fear in her voice. She couldn’t smell what he smelled, but she could see the human bones, the dark red stains on the building and soaked permanently into the ground.

“Kennels. He has hunting dogs.”

“Wh-where are they? The dogs, the master…”

“Better question, where’s Sansa?”

Arya gasped.

“We should go.”

**********

She could hear the dogs howling as she ran. Her lungs felt like they were going to burst, her legs were on fire, but she kept going. She  _ had _ to keep going. The gash on her arm proved that. It could have been worse, if she hadn’t found that branch. The blood had been so hot as it sprayed against her skin, her clothes. She felt bad, but it was the dog or her. The dog or her baby. She pushed past the pain, the exhaustion.  _ I will survive. _

**********

Sandor was running, his clothing snagging on branches, already torn from shifting without disrobing. Arya was left behind, she couldn’t keep up, not without Stranger, and Stranger wouldn’t be able to get through the forest quickly. He stumbled upon a dead dog, a branch lodged into its eye socket, blood on its muzzle. Sansa’s blood. Sansa’s scent on the branch.  _ She’s fighting. Good girl. _

He kept running. She was going in circles, lost or trying to lose her pursuers? She had doubled over her own trail. He followed the stronger of the two. She was close. So were the dogs and the master. He pushed harder. 

**********

She ran right into the wall of stone. Her vision was blurry, the air couldn’t fill her lungs enough.  _ Must keep moving. I have to get moving. _ She tried to put one foot in front of the other, but they gave out on her. She collapsed, her back to the stone. Her body was so heavy. The howls were getting louder. She curled her legs up, wrapping her arms around her as best she could, but they felt like limp noodles.

The dogs burst through first, five of them, but Ramsay’s whistles kept them at bay. They snarled and growled, circling her. Then Ramsay came through the foliage. He looked positively ecstatic, his pale eyes held murderous intent,  _ gleeful  _ murderous intent. “Well, my dear, looks like you’re more of a free spirit than I anticipated. I shall have such fun breaking that spirit--”

Another animal burst through the foliage, tackling Ramsay. The dogs were on the creature in an instant. It knocked them off, flesh ripping from all involved. 

_ It’s a wolf! A huge, black wolf! Is it the one I saw at the pond? _ The wolf scrambled to get between her and the dogs, and she noticed the scarring on its face.  _ It looks like… _

“So my bride has a pet. A vicious, loyal pet. This make things more interesting. Which do you think will win, my dear? Several smaller canines or one large canine? Let’s find out.” He whistled, and the dogs lunged for the wolf. Two were taken out by the wolf’s jaws. Three left, but they had flanked the wolf, who had been distracted by the now dead dogs, and were ripping into its hide. 

The wolf snapped at them. A strong kick took out another. Two left. The wolf grabbed one by the scruff and flung it at the other. They both yelped as they knocked into one another and went crashing into the stone cliff. Sansa heard an awful crunch of bones, and neither dog moved. She looked over at the great, black wolf. Its chest was heaving and she noticed a slight tremble. It was hurt, bleeding profusely, and obviously tired, but it refused to abandon her.  _ Why is it protecting me? _

_ “Very _ interesting. I rather like your pet, my dear. Wherever did you find him?” She pressed her lips into a straight line. “Don’t want to tell your future husband? No? Well, I’ll find out eventually. You are proving to be more of a delight as I get to know you. However, your pet took out mine, and so...” Before she could blink, he drew a pistol and shot the wolf.

“NO!” she screamed as the wolf wobbled and collapsed to the ground.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a tranquilizer dart.” He checked the weapon in his hand. “Yes, just a sedative. Your pet will be--” 

They both gasped as the air around the wolf seemed to ripple. Sansa’s eyes went wide as the wolf shifted from beast to man. “Sandor…” she whispered. Her heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice.

_ “Oh! _ Now this just keeps getting better and better!” Ramsay said, walking up to Sandor’s naked, unconscious form. Sansa’s heart squeezed further. “Isn’t this the man that violated you?”

“He  _ never _ violated me,” she hissed at him. Her heart beat was accelerating as Ramsay kneeled at Sandor’s side.  _ Get away from him! _

“You belong to me, so yes, what he did to you was a violation. I wanted to play with your pet, and this is certainly an interesting twist, but he’s too dangerous to leave alive.” Ramsay stood back up, his back to her. He pulled another pistol from his jacket. “Say goodbye, my dear.”

_ NO! _ she thought as the world blacked out.

**********

Ramsay licked the muzzle of the pistol. “Say goodbye, my dear,” he told his bride. He heard a strangled cry behind him, but ignored it as he took aim. “He really is an ugly, brute, isn’t he? This is a mercy. More to the world than to him.”

A snarl came from behind him. Knowing it wasn’t one of his dogs, he turned. A great red wolf was in the place of his bride, her clothing in shreds on the ground. He smiled, a manic look in his eye, and raised the gun to the red wolf, but where the black wolf had strength and power, the red wolf had speed and agility. It dodged the shots easily and clamped its jaws on Ramsay's soft throat. The last thing he thought before dying was,  _ My perfect bride. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did ya see that coming? :D


	7. I Take Thee...

Sansa woke in her own bed. Arya was nestled next to her, snoring more than a little loudly.  _ What happened? How did I get here? _

“Sansa…” She lifted her head to see her mother sitting in a chair next to the bed. “You’re awake.”

“Mother? Wher-- I mean…How...”

“You want to know how you got back?” her mother asked. Sansa nodded.

“The last thing I remember...I was running away from that awful Ramsay. I think Sandor was there...but I passed out…” She didn’t want to mention the werewolf thing. If it was real and not a figment of her imagination, then it wasn’t something she should tell just  _ anybody. _ Her mother would argue with that logic, and say she wasn’t just anybody, but her mother also had a bad habit of making snap judgements and being stubborn about them. 

“Your sister brought you. On a very large and angry horse. Tried to bite my hand when I reached for you. Tried to bite Arya too, even though she had been his rider only a few moments before.”

“Stranger is very protective of me,” she said quietly. 

“We noticed. How long have you been gallivanting with that man?” Catelyn asked.

“We weren’t gallivanting,” Sansa insisted. “I love him, and he loves me. We’re going to get married and live in the woods. Nothing you or Father can say will ever change that.”

“I don’t like him, Sansa.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why don’t you like him? You don’t know him.” Sansa felt Arya move. She was waking up. 

“He’s...he’s vulgar. Uncouth. Sansa, I don’t think he’s a good influence on you,” Catelyn said, her hands clasped together in her lap. “I don’t care if he can take care of you or not, he’s turning you into someone who disregards their family.”

“Mother! Sandor is a wonderful person. He may be rough around the edges, but he is a much better man than any I’ve ever met. He is brave, loyal, gentle and strong of both body and heart. Not even the king can compare to Sandor.”

“He’s very ugly. He will want children, heirs, and you will have to lie with him in order to give them to him.”

Sansa gripped the sheets, her knuckles turning white and shaking a bit. “Mother. I love you. I respect your opinion, to a point, but if you dare say one more ill thing about Sandor…”

“I…” Catelyn sighed, her shoulders falling limp. “I know, dear. I just want you to be absolutely certain. Once you bind yourself to him, you will be his forever. You  _ must _ be absolutely certain.”

“Ugh! Mother!” Arya exclaimed, sitting up in bed. “She’s certain. She’s  _ absolutely _ certain. I doubt she’s ever been more certain about anything else in her life. Isn’t that right, Sansa?” 

Sansa gave her mother a weak smile, still tired from her adventure and wanting this conversation to be over with quickly. “I have been his since I met him, Mother. I just didn’t know it until I met him again. There was never any chance that I could ever be with anyone else.” 

Catelyn sighed and looked out the window. “Alright. He’s insisting on marrying you right away, not even waiting for a planned event. Today, if you’re--”

“Yes!” 

Catelyn gave her a startled look.

“I mean...I would be most amiable to that. If it pleases you, Mother,” Sansa said meekly. Catelyn  _ hrumphed _ as she stood up and left the room quickly. Arya threw herself back under the covers in a fit of giggles. “Oh, do hush, little sister. You would be the same if you found someone you couldn’t live without.”

Arya pulled the covers down to reveal her face. “Do you mean that? You’ll want to be with him no matter what? No matter what surprises might be in store for you?”

_ Does she know? About Sandor being a wolf? _ She couldn’t be sure, not without asking, and that was something she thought she should avoid doing. Sansa thought about how she had seen Sandor change forms. How he had frightened her as a wolf, but much like when they first met, he hadn’t harmed her. He had protected her instead, nearly at the cost of his own life. If she had been able to do the same, would she? Of course she would. She loved him. But why hadn’t he told her of his ability? What would she do if the situation was reversed? If she was able to change into a wolf, would she have shared it with Sandor? If she had been alone for most of her life, family gone, no friends in the immediate vicinity, practically a recluse, would she trust someone she had really only known a month with a secret that big? Probably not. 

“Sansa?”

She had forgotten that Arya was even there. “Yes, I can be with him, no matter what.”

**********

Sandor ached terribly. His whole body felt like one large bruise. He was fairly certain he had strained, if not pulled, more than a few muscles. His soon to be goodmother had slapped one of his visible injuries, right after telling him that she’d slit his throat if he ever harmed her baby. He had growled, and said he’d slit his own throat if he ever hurt her. He found it interesting that Mrs. Stark was more worried about the safety of her daughter now, when she had all but shoved Sansa into Ramsey’s clutches.  _ Well, I suppose nearly losing your daughter due to your own miscalculations can make you more wary. As it should, but come on! I was the one that saved her! I think… _

His memory was hazy on that. He had come to and found Ramsey dead and Sansa curled up next to him, her clothes in shreds. He had covered her as best he could with the remains he could find of his own clothing as he looked for Arya and Stranger. Once he did find them, they began to make their way back to the village. Sansa had slipped in and out of consciousness. He grumbled about how far that psychotic idiot had dragged them, and pulled a mirror out of the saddlebag. He hated using magic, but it had been a full day and Sansa still hadn’t woken up for more than a few moments at a time. She needed to be back with her family where her mother and a maester could care for her. Activating the mirror, it glowed a blueish white and opened a shortwave portal back to his home. He told Arya to shut it when she complained that he should have used that to begin with. Once back at the castle, he sent Stranger and the maester with them to see them safely home, telling Maester Tarly of Sansa’s condition, and that her parents didn’t know about it. Tarly looked flustered at first, until Sandor reassured him that they would be married soon enough, and her parents never need know that they had taken some shortcuts to marital bliss. The horse had been more concerned about the unconscious woman than the fact that his master was not going with them. He watched the small group head back to the Starks with a heavy heart. He wished he could have just kept her here, but Mrs. Stark would have his head.

“Podrick, get some medicine and bandages. You’ll be dressing my wounds. Also get some of my good clothing ready. Yours too. We’re going out after this.”

“Sir? My lord? Where are we going?”

“To the village at the edge of the Black Forest. Attending a wedding.”

“We are?” Pod perked up. “Whose?”

“Mine.”

That had been hours ago. Now he and Pod were sitting in the Starks house, waiting for the little bird to wake up. Maester Tarly said she would be fine, she was just extremely fatigued. He glanced up as Mrs. Stark came down the stairs, looking very stern and harried. “Sansa will be down shortly. She agrees with your sentiment to be married immediately.”

**********

The ceremony was short, but sweet, with few attendees outside of her family and his two witnesses of Varys and Pod. Sansa wore the Stark cloak she had embroidered, holding her chin up high with pride. Sandor smiled when he saw it. He remembered the last time he saw it, on the nearly full moon night not so long ago. He wasn’t sure he would be able to give Sansa the wedding night she deserved, simply because of his injuries.

His hands trembled as he unclasped it and gave her his own cloak. It was a plain yellow cloak, as he still feared her reaction to learning that he was a High Lord. She handed him the wolf pin he had gifted to her so long ago to secure the fabric. That calmed his nerves a bit.

Podrick had been very put out when he was told to find a cloak without the Clegane sigil and while he hadn’t said anything, it was plain to see he was unhappy that he couldn’t boast his lord’s name for all to hear. Podrick was very proud to work for the High Lord Clegane and had been worrying since he was a mere boy that his lord would never marry. He was like an old matron in that way.

Catelyn Stark blubbered like a child as he and Sansa exchanged their wedding vows, which was hard to ignore and a little offensive. Sansa whispered to him to just ignore her mother, and to forgive her because she might cry just as much when it came time for their children’s weddings. That made him smile.

**********

The wedding feast took place in the largest room the Starks had. The meal was small, but everyone was laughing and dancing to the music provided by Robb’s wife and Bran. He made a promise to himself that he would hold a great feast for the entire village at the castle, to honor Sansa as she should have been honored on her wedding day. He was grateful when Sansa fell asleep on him. It made the next part easier. He had already sworn her family to secrecy. Varys allowed Sandor and his sleeping wife to travel with in his carriage up to Clegane Keep, the seat of the Winterfell Region, since Sandor had been letting Varys stay as a guest. Pod was in charge of bringing Stranger back to the Keep. The boy was not pleased.

He insisted on carrying his sleeping wife himself, and growled at the housekeeper when she offered to find someone to do it for him. 

“Let it be known, Mrs. Ulrich, this woman is High Lady Sansa Clegane, my wife. Formal introductions will be made once she is feeling better. We’ve both had a very hard week, and were also just married today. A feast shall be held in one week’s time for the entire castle and the villagers. Think you’re up to the task of getting everything ready?”

The woman huffed and puffed out her chest. “When have I ever disappointed you?”

“Good to hear it. See to it that food is left outside my...our chambers during the usual meal times until further notice. No one is to enter unless I or Sansa requests it. Make sure Pod knows about that.”

“As you command, High Lord.” Mrs. Ulrich bowed and hurried off to start making the arrangements. The woman was too stubborn with her courtesies. Most of his staff called him “my lord”. 

Sandor climbed the steps to the wing of the castle he reserved for himself, and now his wife. Only Podrick was allowed, usually. He would need to get a maid for Sansa, but for now, he would happily take on the duties involved. 

He exchanged Sansa's bridal dress and yellow cloak for a simple nightdress, placing her in the large bed. She was still sleeping peacefully, but she murmured his name, making happy noises. 

“Rest now, little bird. I'll join you shortly.” He changed into his night clothes and slipped under the covers. Sansa gravitated towards him and he fell asleep with her in his arms.

**********

Sansa woke slowly. Strong arms were around her, slightly crushing her. She held a moment of panic before hearing Sandor talk in his sleep. His voice, comforting and invigorating at the same time, had her nuzzling him, kissing him lightly. His eyes opened a bit, still sleepy, but ever so slowly waking up.

She heard the creak of a door opening and then a voice, “My lord, I have breakfast for you and the lady.” She froze.  _ My lord? Lady? _ She sat up in a panic. The boy who had accompanied Sandor to their wedding, Podrick, was pushing a silver cart with a large covered platter on it. Fear had her heart plummeting.

“Damnit, Pod! Get the hell out of here!” Sandor roared, getting out of bed and marching angrily across the room. It was then that Sansa noticed how massive the room was, as Sandor was actually dwarfed by it. It was plain in decoration, but the craftsmanship of the place was not lost. “I thought I gave explicit instructions that we were not to be disturbed!”

“Y-yes, my lord, but…”

“But nothing! Get out!” Sandor shoved the stricken boy back out into the hallway. He turned back to her, approaching her like one would a scared animal. “Sansa...I can explain…”

“You’re a lord?” she squeaked. “But...I thought...you lived in the woods, that you lived off the land...and we’d have a cottage…”

“We can, if that’s what you wish.” He sat down on the far end of the bed. He felt so far away.  _ A lord! He’s a lord! _ “I’m sorry...but if I had told you sooner...I was scared you wouldn’t have me, that you’d refuse on your principles alone.” He shook his head. “I love you, Sansa. I’ve loved you since the first time I met you. You’re different from any other woman I’ve met. You’re the only one who would refuse me  _ because _ I’m a...well, I’m a High Lord, to tell the truth. 

“A  _ High Lord?! _ But...but...I’m lowborn! You shouldn’t have married me!” she said in a panic. “The other High Lords...you’ll be ostracized!” 

He shook his head. “I won’t, not among the High Lords anyway. I couldn’t tell you before. I knew you would refuse to save my honor, but my honor be damned. I lied by omission in order to make you mine and I don’t regret it. I know it’s a big change from what you thought our life would be like, but we can still have that. I’ll make it work, I’ll do anything to make it work, just please...don’t leave me over this…” His body was tense, and his head was down.

_ He lied...because he knew how I’d react. _ She wondered if she was so predictable, or did he just know her better than she had thought.  _ Maybe a bit of both. Is this why Arya asked me if I could stay with him no matter what? _ It was true, if she had known he was a High Lord, she would have distanced herself from him. She wouldn’t have gotten to know the man beneath the title. That made her a little sad, to know that her sense of honor would have prevented her from knowing the love of this annoyingly wonderful man. Yes, he lied, but he did so with good reason. She couldn’t be mad at him for that.

“Do my parents know? My family?” she asked, her voice softer than she expected.

“It was the only way, at the time, that they would grant me my request,” he said. “It was before they found out that Ramsey was not who he said he was. The morning I went to ask for your hand, I tried to get them to accept my offer without telling them, but they were holding out for a better one that wasn’t coming. I had taken my credentials, determined to use my position as a last resort. It should have been enough that I love you and could take care of you. When it wasn’t, then I played that card, and now you are High Lady Sansa Clegane. Your sister knew who I was as soon as you described me, but she’s apparently been working here in the castle for the past six months.” He took a wary glance at her. “Do you hate me now?”

She shook her head. Her initial panic had receded, though she did still hold a worry in her heart. “I’m more mad at myself that you were right to not tell me, because I wouldn’t have taken the time to get to know you.”

“Not that that would have stopped me,” he said with a slight grin. “I would have wooed you more openly or offered for you straight away.”  He looked down at the floor again. “Then, maybe none of this last week would have happened.”

She crawled across the bed to hug him from behind. “It was scary, but it really only proved to me how much I mean to you and how much you mean to me. It’s not every man who would do what you did. You spent a week tracking me down, and then flew to my rescue. How does a High Lord learn such lowborn skills? I thought all your station did was rule over the lower folk?”

“You’d be surprised at the hobbies some of the High Lords have. Mine happen to coincide with a...um, condition I have. Makes life easier. Some others like to mingle with the smallfolk and take up sham residences, learn a trade, and blend in. They end up learning more about their people and are able to help them better. I walk among them in secret, blending with the shadows, listening at their doors. The day we met was one such day. If I had taken the time to do as the others had, I might have known you sooner.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” She brushed his hair back from his face. “It does no good to dwell on what could have been. We are where we are, because of what we have done.”

“Mhmm.” He fell silent. 

Sansa nestled her head against his neck. He seemed to be thinking about something. She didn’t mind. She was still trying to process the fact that she was now married to a man in the second highest station of the land.  _ How am I supposed to be a High Lady? _

“There’s something else I need to tell you, little bird. I...I mentioned having a condition…” He tensed slightly. “I...um, I sometimes…”

“Is this about you transforming into a wolf?”

His jaw dropped and he turned to stare at her. “How… You knew?” She nodded, suddenly feeling shy. “How...how long?”

“Since you saved me from Ramsay and his dogs. He shot you with a sedative and you transformed back to your human self.” 

“Ramsay saw, too? I’m surprised he didn’t kill me.”

“He was going to, once he saw you change. I don’t know what happened. I blacked out before he did anything. I figured that you must have come to, and...dealt with him? Killed him? Left him to die? I wasn’t sure.”

“No, I didn’t do anything to him. He was dead when I regained consciousness, his throat torn out. There’s only two other people I know of that could have done it, the one who changed me and his father, though his father wouldn’t come to Winterfell. I sent them word that I would be marrying, as soon as you told me your father would be home soon. He...he might have done it, but then why wouldn’t he have stayed after, or shown up for the ceremony?”

“Who?”

“The...uh, the king.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we knew Sandor's sire was the king, but Sansa's in a bit of a shock. Poor girl, first you find out you married up way farther than you ever imagined, then you find out the king made your husband into a wolf. Final chapter, and explanations, up next! If there's anything you're confused on, let me know. :)


	8. The Red Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>    
> 

Sansa blinked. “I beg your pardon, did you just say…”

“The king.”

“The king. The _king_ is a wolf?” she asked in shock.

“He was born one. His father, King Aerys, was known to stray from Queen Abeille. When she finally strayed from him, it was with a soldier who held the curse, Miel, and she bore him a son. The king assumed it was his child, and he became the Crown Prince. The soldier became his personal guard. He taught his son the ways of the wolf. The queen died during an outbreak of greyscale. She was a good woman, a skilled healer, she tended to her people and she paid the price. Her song was sung by the people, a few years before you were born, I think, and the Crown Prince carried on with her work. She was beloved, and he became just as loved.”

“That part I know of. My father tells of the king’s coronation still, how happy the people were when he took the crown, and how much better he made the kingdom.” Robb, Jon and Sansa had been too young to attend, but her father had gone and brought back stories that had thrilled the entire village.

“Queen Abeille’s discretion was never discovered, and so a bastard of a common soldier sits on the throne today.”

“Did she love him?”

“From what the king tells me, King Aerys was very difficult to love. I have often suspected that the man was sterile, and that it is just as well that a good man sits on the throne now, rather than a product of the cruel king.”

She shook her head. “No, not Aerys. The soldier, Miel. Did she love him?”

Sandor smiled. “I believe so. She worked hard to make sure he was in their son’s life, but also to make sure that the secret was kept. I only know because the king told me. His birth father told him when he taught him how to be a wolf. I got to know him during my time in the capital. Odd fellow, but nice.”

“So, you think that maybe the king killed Ramsay?”

“Either him or his birth father, but I don’t know what Miel would be doing here. He took to the Kingswood once his son became king and hardly ever leaves.”

A knock came from the door.

“If that’s Pod again, I will rip him a new hole,” Sandor growled. He found a robe for Sansa to put on, then strode to the door and flung it open. “This had better be important--”

“Well, I’d say it is, not every day that my best friend gets married and doesn’t even wait for me to be able to attend.” A golden man with the golden crown entered the room.

He heard Sansa gasp from behind him. “Your majesty!”

Jaime smirked. “And what a lovely bride you have! Lucky you didn’t introduce us before, or else I might have stolen her away.”

“And I would have torn your manhood out from the root,” another voice said. A very mannish woman, wearing a matching crown and nearly a matching outfit to the king, entered the room behind Jaime. “Clegane, it’s good to see you again.”

“Queen Brienne,” Sandor said, bowing low.

“Why do you bow to her and not to me?” Jaime asked, pouting slightly. Sandor raised an eyebrow at him.

“Because she is easy to respect, while you...I know too many of your secrets to respect you.” Brienne snorted with laughter while Jaime frowned harder.

He turned to Sansa, who was clutching her robe closed tightly. “I don’t know how you stand being around him, my dear, he’s an absolute brute.”

Sansa straightened her back and joined Sandor, linking her arm with his. “Maybe if you didn’t provoke him, he would be less brutish towards you. Your majesty.” Sandor smiled at the tacked on title. He could feel her bristling at his side.

“She’s right,” Brienne said. “You did provoke him, right after invading his chambers, even though the housekeeper told us they were just married yesterday. If anyone had interrupted us the day after we married, you would have killed them.”

“There’s still time for that,” Sandor said, but he was grinning. Jaime had the decency to look chagrinned.

“Yes, well, I had an important matter to discuss. Life-altering, in fact. If you would, old friend, please come with me so that we make speak privately. You may tell your wife after, but for now…”

Sandor sighed and rubbed his hand wearily against his scars. “Fine. Brienne, will you stay with Sansa? There’s some breakfast available, we haven’t touched it yet, and the kitchen always sends up too much.”

“Of course. It would be an honor to get to know you, Sansa.” Brienne bowed to Sansa’s curtsy. “Please, call me Brienne.” Sandor knew the two would get along well as he shut the bedroom door.

Jaime followed Sandor to the rarely used study. “She seems like a nice girl,” Jaime said.

“Definitely one of a kind.”

“I hate to ask, but did you consummate the marriage last night?” he asked Sandor carefully. Sandor studied his friend for a moment before answering.

“No. We were both exhausted from a recent ordeal, and then this morning, we had some _issues_ to discuss--”

“Good, because you really shouldn’t.”

“What? Shouldn’t what?”

“Whatever you do, do _not_ have sex with your wife.” Jaime didn’t even have a small grin on his face.

Sandor frowned at him. “Why?”

Jaime took a deep breath and scratched at the back of his head nervously. “Something I discovered after my own wedding. Brienne’s been turned.”

“So...you bit her? Like you did me?”

“No.” Jaime growled and walked over to the window. The view was spectacular, and when Sandor walked up next to him, he could see the various villages he ruled over. Sansa’s village was on the other side of the castle. “Of the women you previously fucked, did you ever have unprotected sex with them?” Sandor shook his head. He wasn’t a fool, and made sure that every time he had found a willing woman he would have them use a contraceptive sponge. “Good...that’s what I thought. You’ve always been a careful one. My father, Miel, never mentioned this before, since I didn’t have sex without protection, but apparently, my mother was also turned. He did not bite her either. It seems that it’s not just the saliva of a wolf that can turn a human, it’s also blood or...semen.”

“Wait...you’re saying…”

“If you don’t want to turn Sansa, then you must never have sex with her.”

Sandor walked over to a nearby high back chair and collapsed into it, leaning the scarred side of his face into his palm. He suddenly felt very tired. “Then it’s too late. Why didn't you tell me this sooner?!”

Jaime turned to him, “Because I didn't want to limit you from finding a wife and I knew you were probably being careful with anyone else. How can it be too late? You said…”

“I said we didn’t have sex _last night or this morning._ She’s been pregnant with my child for about two and half weeks now. We’ve been having sex since just before the last full moon, no protection at all.” Sandor looked up at Jaime and rolled his eyes at the shocked expression on the king’s face. “Oh, come off it. You and Brienne did the same thing.”

“It’s not that...it’s just surprising that _you_ did it.”

Sandor just scoffed. “So...Sansa’s a wolf now as well?”

“Yes. She hasn’t shown any changes? There’s been no odd instances?”

“No, not that I-- Wait...there was something, two days ago… We were just trying to figure it out.” He quickly related the events of Ramsay’s death and how neither he nor Sansa knew how Ramsay died. “Could she have…”

“Most likely. Your first time together was too soon for the change to occur for the last full moon, and the next one is upon us tonight. She was distressed, you were about to be killed, her fear pushed her to change out of instinct in order to protect you. She must really love you.” Jaime considered his friend. “She probably doesn’t know either. How are you going to tell her?”

“No idea.”

**********

Brienne was an odd woman, but Sansa decided that she liked her. If she could put up with the king, she must be a very patient person. She told Sansa of how they arrived so quickly, considering the king’s castle was several months travel away. “Magic. It’s rare and costly, even for a king, but there is a travel system of magic portals all across the kingdom. Only the king and the High Lords have access to it. High Lord Varys probably used it as well, otherwise he wouldn’t have been here so quickly either.”

“Who maintains it?”

“Some of the maesters who specialize in magic. A lot can go wrong with magic, so they are the most closely monitored group in the Citadel, and not many want to join merely for that fact. It’s a sad, but necessary, precaution.” They were sitting at a small table on the balcony of the bedchamber. They could see several villages, one of which Sansa thought was her own. She would have to ask Sandor about it later. “How did you meet?” she asked Sansa.

Sansa blushed profusely as she told Brienne the story. Brienne found it amusing, though she admonished Sansa for letting him take her in the pond. “Should have at least gotten to dry land,” she said with a smile. She gushed happily when Sansa told her she was pregnant, though she assured Sansa through her worries that she might miscarry. “I highly doubt it. You’re young, strong, and healthy, and I hear Cleganes are hard to kill. It’ll be fine, I’m sure.”

Sansa nodded and went quiet for a few moments. “Qu-- Brienne, may I ask a personal question?” she asked.

“You may. I will tell you if it’s too personal for me to answer.”

Sansa fiddled with her messy braid. She really needed to comb it. “Um...it’s about the...um, shared _condition_ of King Jaime and Sandor…”

Brienne blinked. “Oh, I wasn’t sure if you knew about that. Of course, ask whatever you like.”

“How...how do you deal with him being...a wolf?” She whispered the last word, as if speaking louder would somehow break everything.

“Ah, well, it’s easier now that I am one, too.” Sansa’s jaw dropped, but Brienne smiled and leaned over to lightly push her jaw closed. She looked over towards the closed door and then back to her companion. “Sansa, would you like to be a wolf?”

Surprise washed over Sansa. “Me? A wolf? With Sandor? That sounds…” Her voice trailed off. “Oh, but I’d make a terrible wolf. I’m too shy and timid.”

“Really? I don’t think you are, at least, not where it counts.” Sansa looked at her in confusion. “Not ten minutes ago, I saw you stand up to my husband, the king.”

“Oh...well...I suppose,” she muttered, blushing more.

“My point is, you don’t need a personality like Sandor’s or Jaime’s in order to be a wolf. Just like humans, every wolf is different.” Brienne watched Sansa carefully as she pondered this. “So, would you like to be a wolf as well? I have to say that running through the woods together is quite fun. You would have heightened sense, and having sex in your wolf state would be a whole new experience! You just end up feeling so...free!” She smiled broadly. Sansa laughed, Brienne’s enthusiasm was very infectious.

“Are there...are there any drawbacks?” she asked.

“Well, nothing in this world is all good. When you first begin to change, you might black out, lose time. When the full moon comes about, it’ll be irresistible. New wolves can’t help but change at that time. The instincts take over, to change, to hunt, to kill. You’ll learn to control it in time, and until then, Sandor will watch over you. Jaime wants to stay for a bit, so we could be here as well.”

Sansa got up from her seat and walked to the edge of the balcony. “The full moon is tonight. Would I change for that?”

“It depends on a lot of factors,” Brienne said.

“Like if I’ve already been changed?” Sansa asked her sadly. Brienne gave her an equally sad smile.

“You knew?”

“I suspected something was off with me. I thought maybe it was just my pregnancy, but after what you just said…” Sansa turned back to her. “When Ramsay kidnapped me, I was able to hear things I shouldn’t have. I could _smell_ things I normally wouldn’t be able to smell. My stamina...I’ve never been particularly athletic. Though Sandor and I were very _vigorous_ in our lovemaking, even that couldn’t explain how I was able to not only stay ahead of the dog pack, but also to do so for so long. When night fell, I could still see so clearly. And then...when Ramsay was about to kill Sandor...I blacked out. Arya, my sister, told me later that my clothes had been ripped to shreds and that there was blood all over my front, but none of it was mine. Sandor said he wasn’t the one who killed Ramsay, and neither you nor the king were even in the region at the time, if you just arrived today. That leaves only...me.”

“I see...you’re a very clever girl,” Brienne said. “Sandor doesn’t know, Jaime’s probably telling him now, but it was having unprotected sex that changed you. He chose well with you.”

“I’m not. I’ve been told so many new things today, that I feel like nothing can surprise me. Bran is the clever one. My brother. Arya’s the brave one. Robb’s the strong one. Rickon is the wild one. I’m just...the quiet one. The obedient one. The one my parents never worried about, at least, not until recently.”

“Ah, parents. They try their best, but they have trouble, too. Sometimes they don’t have enough time to really know their children. What would your siblings say about you?”

“That I cook and sew well. Jon and Arya are quite picky, but I’m able to make sure they eat well even with what little we get. I make sure they are not bored by the same plain meal everyday. That I can make even the most dreary days bright. Arya and Bran like the stories I make up for them. Robb and Mother tell me how they like that I alter our old clothing to look new. Father likes it too, though he never mentions it.”

“That, my dear, tells me you’re creative. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I suppose, yes. I do like to create and figure out how to make things less mundane for my family. It’s the only way any of us could stay sane.” She had created so many dolls, plays and toys for her siblings and the other kids in the village, most of them out of nothing but scraps and leftover materials.

“And creative people are clever people. So, you are clever, just maybe not in the same way your brother is seen as clever.”

“Maybe...I just want to be able to support Sandor, and I’m terrified. I am lowborn, and he’s a High Lord. He told me that the other High Lords won’t care…”

“They won’t,” Brienne assured her.

“But what about the lords, the middle class, the lower class? Won’t they look down on him?”

“Maybe. But Sandor Clegane is no stranger to being the odd man out. If he tells you it’s not something to worry about, then you should trust him. If you worry anyway, which I suspect you will do, then prove to them you are worthy of being his wife. Though I honestly think it won’t become an issue. Sandor hasn’t exactly been very involved with his region, at least, not face to face. The people know very little about him, and he probably swore your family to secrecy.”

Sansa sighed and hugged herself, feeling a slight chill from the wind. “I suppose I’ll feel more comfortable once I see it for myself.”

Brienne came up behind her and hugged her. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

**********

“How is your region doing, by the way? I hope your courtship of your bride didn’t distract you too much,” Jaime said, a slight smile on his lips.

Sandor ignored the impulse to roll his eyes. “The farmers in the eastern area are having some trouble with pests. I sent some provisions to help, but it seems like it is getting worse. I’ll have to go out there next week if this continues. Other than that, the rest are doing fairly well. Soon it will be time to make my usual rounds, but I’m hoping Sansa will be willing to join me this time.”

“You make your journey across the region every...three months?” Jaime asked.

“Every four. There may not be as many people in the Winterfell area, but it is larger than the rest and it takes a while to cross it.”

“You think she’ll be up for it?”

“Don’t see why not. It’ll be good for her to see the region she now presides over. Besides, she’s been very sheltered, hasn’t really left the valley her village is in since she was born. I think she’d like it.”

“Might want to see how she does with her first moon induced transformation first,” Varys said, appearing out of nowhere.

“Oh, right. Thought you’d still be abed at this hour.” Varys had known for years about the peculiar condition of the king and his fellow High Lord. He had been working to find out more, possibly even find a cure, if one existed.

“Brie and I will come with you. Three corralling a new wolf is easier than one,” Jaime said, rubbing his hands together with glee. Sandor knew he was just looking forward to a wild run, but he was glad for the help.

**********

“Sandor! Brienne’s told me that I’m a wolf, too!” Sansa exclaimed excitedly as Jaime and Sandor returned.

Brienne laughed as she watched the shock, horror, then confusion play across Sandor’s face. “Technically, she came to the conclusion herself. I just helped it along unknowingly. You have a very intelligent wife, Clegane.”

“I know,” he said, grinning madly as she got shy. Sandor pulled Sansa to the side, while Jaime walked over to Brienne.

“Good thing you told her. Sandor was nervous about it. I swear, how a guy like him can be so afraid of such a _little_ thing as her is mind boggling.” Jaime was shaking his head, but chuckling at his friend. Brienne refrained from pointing out that Sansa was nearly as tall as Jaime. She did have to concede that Sansa had an air of frailty about her.

“He’s just scared of losing her,” Brienne said softly. “He can’t believe she’s real and loves him. He’s waiting to wake up or for her to decide enough is enough. He’ll come to realize she’s not going to leave him until the Stranger makes her.” She knew how Sandor felt. She still felt it, even after four years of marriage. A look of dawning touched Jaime’s face.

“Ah, well, I can understand _that,”_ he said, smiling, but not answering Brienne’s questioning look.

**********

The moon would rise soon, and the sun had long set. “What should I expect?” Sansa asked Brienne. They were standing naked in the forest. Jaime and Sandor were nearby, also naked. Sansa could hear their muffled bickering.

“It will tingle, at first. Just let it happen. Right now, you have no control over it, so don’t try to do anything besides _feel._ You need to get used to the feeling, embrace it. It may become painful, but don’t resist it. Got it?”

Sansa nodded. It was so strange to be naked in the forest with someone other than Sandor, but at least it wasn’t another man. Brienne may have been mannish, but she did have some slight feminine curves and there was no mistaking her body for one of a male. Brienne told her of her first time turning, what she could remember anyway, until the bright white globe peeked over the dark horizon.

Her skin felt sparkly, and she closed her eyes. Her skin still felt sparkly, but now it was too tight. She felt off balance as well. She heard Brienne’s gentle voice and felt a hand on her back, urging her to lean forward. Her arms went out and she caught herself before she fell completely. It turned painful, but only slightly so. She heard a guttural growl and realized it was her own voice making it. She felt odd, yet right. She shook violently, and she _felt._

Her fur was gloriously poofed and there was something on her backside and she had a tail! So puffy and red and she wondered if she could catch it. She turned in a circle, once, twice, three times, but then a wind picked up and _Sandor!_ She could smell him! She ignored the other female and raced off to find him. She nearly missed him, she was following the scent and the wind had pushed it to the side, but then she rounded a shrub and there there there!

She leapt on him, licking his face, nuzzling him and sniffing him. He was laughing and crying out for her to stop because it tickled.

“Wow. She’s huge. And friendly,” she heard a voice say. She turned, standing protectively over Sandor. She bared her teeth at the man. Something nigged at the back of her brain. _Stop!_ but she ignored it. She heard herself growl again, _Back off! Leave my mate alone!_

A light blonde wolf trotted up to her. Her friend. Yes. She could trust the light blonde one. The blonde wolf nuzzled her, then went to the man and rubbed against his side, marking him. _Oh. He belongs to her._ Sansa dropped her protective stance and looked down at Sandor. He had changed, too, and was laying on the ground beneath her, a great black wolf. He nipped at her in a loving manner and she jumped playfully on him. The man shifted and became a golden yellow wolf. He howled, but the other three ignored him. The light blonde wolf pawed at him when he started to sulk and started her own howl, which Sansa and the black wolf joined in with. The golden yellow wolf sulked a bit more, then joined in as well. Soon, they were all running through the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ends Part 1. I hope to post Part 2 in the near future. It will also be short, 6-9 chapters long. Let me know if there's anything I left out, or if you're confused about something!


End file.
